Surviving on Coffee
by AveryBraden
Summary: Snapshots of scenes we should have seen in early season 2


Disclaimer: I do not own Jericho.

Author's Note: This story was beta'ed by SandraDee. A big thank you goes out to her.

* * *

"How's the coffee?" He stood next to her in the break room, pouring himself a cup of the steaming liquid. Creature comforts were slowly creeping back into their lives, but he didn't think anything would ever resemble normalcy again. Of course, if their lives were normal, they'd have never known each other.

She wrinkled her nose as she swished the liquid around in the white Styrofoam cup she held. "Thick."

"That bad?"

"Just glad to have it, coffee grounds and all."

They fell silent for a moment, neither sure what to say. What was left? They could talk of the weather, continue to be polite strangers. But that wouldn't make this any easier. Not when what she wanted to tell him would only put him in an awkward position and what he wanted to tell her would only complicate her life to the point of misery.

And so this was the extent of their conversation, every day since she'd been back.

"Well," he began, "I'll see you around."

_Coward_. But wasn't he doing more for her by keeping his distance?

"See you." She sounded disappointed.

He knew he was.

____

He watched through the bullet-proof glass as she reported to Beck. Her posture reminded him of the soldiers that passed through the city hall on any given day. She was practically standing at attention. It struck him then that she looked so unlike herself, that vivacious woman who gestured wildly with her hands when trying to make a point or knew how to get her point across with just the slightest tilt of her head. She seemed lost within this calm, very deliberate person. He missed seeing that effervescent side of her. Here, she'd been all business. Maybe that made it easier on her. Maybe that made it tougher on him. It was what it was.

And then it hit him. Which one was the real her? The solemn woman or the cheery one?

She wasn't his mystery to unravel, yet he couldn't help but wonder about her. Worry about her, too. She did a good job of keeping her emotions in check with her position as liaison, but when he thought of what she must have gone through in New Bern, he knew it couldn't have been easy. The look of horror that crossed her features when she saw the Bernie gunman told him more than any words could. She covered quickly, but he saw that she wore a mask.

Just as she wore a mask now.

Hands clasped behind her, back straight, face expressionless.

No, she wasn't his mystery to unravel, but he still wondered.

____

She was supposed to be studying reports, but her eyes slid over the dot matrix printouts and across the room to where he stood speaking with his brother. The brothers' tones were hushed, but she could tell he was upset. She couldn't help but worry about him. About his whole family, really. Somewhere, not even thirty minutes away by vehicle, was the man responsible for the death of a husband, a father, a former mayor, a moral compass. Constantino had been declared untouchable by Beck, and she could only imagine how that must gnaw at him.

Not that he'd told her. Not that he would.

They'd spent some time together before she left for New Bern, but she realized more and more that she didn't know him all that well. However, what she did know was that she'd never seen a person care more or do more in a crunch than he did. Maybe it was the spur of the moment tracheotomy he performed on her student or his self-effacing comment that he was just a screw up that made her determined to get through what would be the hardest thing she'd ever been through. She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that he was different from any man she'd ever known.

Poor man bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. But if there was ever anyone she would trust with her life, it would be him.

_He doesn't need that burden_, she reminded herself. _He has enough on his plate._

And so she found herself giving the room a quick once-over, looking for anyone or anything out of place, before she continued to work.

____

"How's the coffee today?"

A variation of the question from the day before.

"Think there are any Starbucks open?" Her blue eyes shone as she looked over the Styrofoam cup from which she sipped.

He half-smiled. "Used to be one on every corner."

"Except here," she corrected.

"My dad always wanted to keep the strip malls out. He thought things would change too fast." His words hung in the air. Things had changed too fast but not because of the evils of strip malls and Starbucks.

It was the first time she'd heard him speak of his father since she'd been back. She had offered her condolences, certainly, but he had only given a perfunctory 'thank you.' She assumed that anything more would have been too difficult. Now it was good to hear him speak of his father. Maybe that meant things were getting easier for him, for his family.

"I'd say he was right," she replied. "One of the things I always loved about this place was that it had character."

He leaned against the table, cup of coffee in hand. "And to think I couldn't wait to get out of here." The self-recrimination was difficult to miss, but before she could say anything, he asked with sudden directness, "Do you have everything you need?"

This was a new conversation. The politeness began to thaw into something more real.

Time seemed to move slowly as she considered his question. _No, I want you to see me standing before you. Me. I _need_ you to see _me_. The real me. I need you to not be in love with my best friend. I need you to stop taunting me with what will never be. Stop doing things that make me feel like I would give my last breath to be near you. No, I don't have everything I need! _

"Cream. Beet sugar. What more could a girl ask for in her coffee?"

Their eyes met, and he knew she was being purposely obtuse. He _could_ call her on it. And then what?

"Glad your coffee is okay," he finally uttered.

"Yeah. I'll, um, see you around."

Her coffee tasted bitter.

_____

She cradled the radio receiver in her hand. Concern was written all over her features. "Did you say you've lost twenty people in the last week?"

Static. And then, "No. Two hundred twenty."

She was crestfallen. The others gasped around her. "What the hell is going on out there?"

He didn't often hear her curse, even mildly. But she was flustered as her eyes darted around the storage room of Gracie Leigh's Market where they had all gathered with the Hamm radio Dale had procured on one of his trading ventures.

He wanted to tell her it would all be okay, but who was he to make such promises? He couldn't even have an honest conversation with her without falling back into the roles of polite strangers.

Instead, he went into autopilot. Almost instantly, a plan was formed to gain the vaccines that Goetz determined as unsafe contraband. They'd already lost too much, and he'd be damned if what was happening in Missouri was going to happen in Jericho.

____

Night had fallen, but she found herself on the front porch of city hall leaning against the railing next to the Kansas state flag flapping in the wind. The place was still; most people had gone home for the night.

This was probably the first time in her life that she'd wished she were a smoker. At least then, she could feel like she had something to do in these quiet moments. Something other than wait and think.

He came out on the porch holding two Styrofoam containers, stood next to her, and passed a cup of steaming Joe.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice hushed. She took a sip of the liquid, only to pucker her lips and look back to him in surprise.

He looked at her sideways. "I added a nip of something to the coffee."

"Why, Sheriff Green, don't tell me you're drinking on duty." Her words were an admonition, but her tone was playful. Within, he was warmed, if not from the alcohol then by her.

"I'm off the clock. So are you. Figured after the day we've had, we could use it."

"It's going to get bad, isn't it?" Dread filled her voice.

"Yeah."

She sipped her liquor-laden coffee. "I…I talked to Major Beck. He's sending help for those people."

His brows lifted.

"You're surprised," she noted.

That was an understatement. From the time Major Beck arrived in town, he made it clear that he was very good at his job. _Job_ being the operative word. To Beck, Jericho was one in a string of jobs. He'd meet his objective here and move on, unlikely to give their town a backwards glance. To everyone else, this was their lives. "Figured he would say it's out of his jurisdiction."

"It _is_ out of his jurisdiction, but he's a decent man. Once he knew what was going on, he had to send help for them."

But he knew that Beck didn't do it only for those people. He did it for _her_. Because _she_ was the one who asked. Maybe Beck would give Jericho a backwards glance after all.

His voice lowered. "Did you get your vaccination yet?"

She nodded. "I was inoculated when I began working as a liaison."

"Good."

She fell silent for a moment.

"What?" He was perplexed. Shouldn't she be happy with what they'd managed to pull off?

"This whole thing makes me feel bad."

"Why?"

"Because I had access to something that no one else did." She sighed. "It's silly, I know. Those 220 people-they were just a drop in the bucket compared to how many people have been lost in the last eight months."

"It's never silly to have compassion," he replied gently.

"I just keep thinking—that could have been us. And I know the way things are, disease and starvation are just part of it now. But…" her voice trailed off. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess I'm just tired."

"Have you had any down time?"

"Have _you_?" she countered.

He exhaled loudly, giving her the answer.

"So what does that make us?" she asked, turning to face him.

He managed a smile. "Two people who can't take our own advice."

She lifted her cup. "Yeah. And surviving on coffee."

THE END


End file.
